A Witch's Untitled
by Reni-Chan
Summary: The Boy Who Lived was the only one still remembered. The other two pieces of the Golden Trio were lost to obscurity and lost to each other. So, who could care who she drank with, worked with, walked down the street with?


A Witch's Untitled:

Summary:

The Boy Who Lived was the only one still remembered. The other two pieces of the Golden Trio were lost to obscurity and lost to each other. So, who could care who she drank with, worked with, walked down the street with? For nobody cared to recognize, to remember, the witch who strode with the grey eyed man.

**A/N: **The constant reference to the main character as "she" and "her" instead of her name is on purpose. It's just a technique I employ sometimes. (I find it gives a slight sense of detachment, which isn't really something you would usually want, but I'm weird. This story is weird.) So, sorry if it bothers you, but I did intend to do it and purposely avoided using anything else. (For example: The hazel eyed woman, the bushy haired witch, etc.)

"Care for a drink later?"

Her day was nothing if not routine. Wake up, feed the cats, make a quick breakfast and groom what she could, then out the door. Perhaps take a liesurely walk to work, or, if that proved too slow, apparate. The floo network to and from her office was constantly overloaded, causing what was usually a quick and convenient mode of transportation to become slow and irritating. Greet the receptionist warmly and be repayed with a curt, "Hi", climb the stairs to her floor- one must get exercise where they can, after all- and greet her floor-mates (who were much friendlier than the snippy receptionist).

"Excuse me?"

Search her impeccably organized shelves and drawers for the day's, or the week's, or the month's case. Check the notes on her desk for anything new from the aurors, rewrite the new evidence or theories into her own notes, to be safely filed into her neat little folders. At this point- _always _this point, right before she broke for lunch- she would find herself looking up at those photos on her lovely mahogany desk- she did love that desk, she'd been so pleased to get this office- those photos of her dear, dear friends. Sometime a witch or wizard would glance at one in particular and wonder, "Did you go to Hogwarts with The Boy Who Lived, then?", not recognizing her- or anyone in any of the other pictures- in the least. She would always reply, "Yes, we were in Gryffindor in the same year.", to which she might recieve a reply of, "Would've thought you'd have been in Ravenclaw," or some such. Though usually she recieved a condescending look or a knowing smirk from some twit who thought, A. she'd had a crush on The Boy Who Lived in school, or B. she hoped people would think she had been friends with the famous Boy Who Lived- The Chosen One.

Funny how that seemed to be his name now. Well, it always had been. The Boy Who Lived, the Gryffindor Champion, The Chosen One- he always had a title, didn't he? While the only title bestowed upon her- that of, "know-it-all"- was never given in such positive, praiseful tones as his.

"A drink. After work?"

Those pictures were a constant reminder to her that she had faded into obscurity. She might come up at times, as that "bright young witch who aided the Boy Who Lived", but few and far between were the times her name was mentioned. The witch now associated with Harry Potter was Ginny Potter, and she was the one people talked about. It was a common occurence now for Ginny to take _her _place in the tales of Harry Potter's adventures. After all, when a witch came up in a story about the Boy Who Lived, of course it would be the same girl he would someday marry, wouldn't it?

"I heard you. I was just surprised. Why would you want a drink with me?"

There Ron was luckier than she. Being the Chosen One's brother-in-law afforded him some attention from the wizarding world- but little. Because that was how he was known: as the brother-in-law of Harry Potter. His part, too, in the life and triumphs of Harry, was forgotten. It seemed now that Harry Potter was so wonderful that he could do all of those amazing things people talked of single-handedly, or with the help of his girlfriend Ginny- never mind the fact that they didn't become involved until sixth year. Gossip didn't really care much for facts.

"Because we've been working at the same office for two years and we've spoken probably eight sentences to each other- all about case work. Because I'm bored, and you're lonely. Because, for once, I'd like to talk to someone who doesn't think Harry bloody Potter is the greatest thing to ever wave a wand."

She would sometimes wonder, during these moments of reflection, whether the two of them might have been remembered better if they had _remained, "_the two of them". The splitting, it seemed, was what finally broke the Golden Trio, and cast an obliviate charm over the wizarding world. It wasn't as if she wanted the attention Harry received. She was certain this life was better than constant bombardment by reporters and well-wishers begging to shake her hand. Still, sometimes when she would hear people nearby chattering on and on about the wonderful Harry Potter, she wanted to scream, "I was there too!"

Still, she would never confide this in Harry. How selfish it would seem, "sometimes I want some of the attention you get from everyone"- and of course, he would start on his spiel of how the attention wasn't worth all he had gone through, all he had lost- and Ginny would give her disapproving look. They didn't understand. They didn't realize what the situation was with her. Perhaps they assumed that she didn't go unrecognized- but she did- or perhaps they thought she, too, was constantly stopped on the street and thanked- but she wasn't. They didn't understand in the least that nobody knew who she was.

Hermione Jean Granger was simply a name that prompted, "I'm sure I've heard that before," or, "I think we went to school together". Every now and then she met a school mate who _did _remember her deeds- but they never wanted to talk about her. Always the question was, "So how is Harry? Surely you see him often- you three were always inseparable."

"You do remember I'm a good friend of 'Harry bloody Potter', don't you?"

Inseparable. That hardly seemed the case these days. Harry and Ginny were constantly busy- it seemed the only time they had ever slowed down had been at the birth of James Potter II- they had taken a break from their hectic lives to care better for their child. Still, that didn't mean they had time for her- it seemed even in their letters, they had no time to talk about her. Should she write about something exciting that had happened to her, she always recieved a similar response: "That's wonderful. We're very glad for you. James has started talking- James did this fantastic thing- James- James, James, James". The happy couple was absorbed in their happy world- no doubt Harry deserved years and years to care for himself and his family- he'd given a better part of his young life to saving the wizarding world. Still, it would've been nice to recieve a kind inquiry to her health, or her life. Even a hello at work! She and Harry both worked at the Ministry... but, she supposed he was too busy at work, as well, to speak with her.

"That's exactly it. You, at least, should remember that he's human like the rest of us. Anyway- I'm not asking you to drink with me so we can talk about _him_."

... Things were worse off with Ron. The two hadn't ended things on the best of terms, and it was obvious from his short, clipped letters that communicating with her seemed to sting at his wounds. She'd known since it ended that things would be like this- but she'd supposed it would be better than continuing on like she was: pretending she was perfectly happy to become his housewife, living the lie that was her feelings for him- acting like those feelings hadn't changed since school. She was wrong. Perhaps it would've been better if they had never begun at all- because ending it left their friendship in pieces, and damaged forever her relationship with his family- including his new brother-in-law.

"I'm sorry if I still can't understand _why _you want to drink with me. You hate me, remember?"

"You've worked on some of my cases, Granger- I'm not the same kid I was back at Hogwarts. Did you ever see me prosecute a muggle-born any differently than a pure blood?"

"No- you're an equal git to everyone."

It was too dramatic to say she had lost everything: she had the means to get it all back, should she want to. Strange how she wasn't sure if she _did _want to. She could easily mend things with her friends, try to reconcile the abandoned relationships, and while things would never be as they once were, they would be a nice illusion. Perhaps, though, things were better this way. She enjoyed her work, had a few colleagues she could chat with and joke with, and if she missed her friends, well, she had her cats.

No- this was pathetic. Where had her life gone? Her aspirations? Certainly, she was happy in her work- she brought criminals to justice, had a wonderful outlet for her thoughts- but no one would ever know her. She didn't stand in court, defending the wronged and prosecuting the wicked- she sat behind a desk and sorted clues. She hadn't desired a terribly exciting life- Merlin knew she'd had her share of excitement- but... She wanted more than she had.

"Right. So there's really no reason for you to refuse my offer."

"Except that you're a git, and I still don't like you."

"Give a guy a chance, Granger. C'mon, I know you're bored, and it's just a few drinks. I'm sure you've been wanting to talk about something other than Harry Potter too."

"How-"

"I'm a lawyer. I'm good at figuring people out."

"You have changed, I'll give you that, but you're still an arrogant little ferret."

She'd been aware for some time that one of her colleagues was her old rival from school: one Draco Malfoy. When she had discovered this, she'd honestly thought they would come to blows at some point- but the few times they'd worked together over the past two years he had been incredibly civil: focusing on the case and not aiming a single taunt at her. She'd returned that politeness in her own way: ignoring his existence whenever they weren't assigned to a case together. She'd thought it a kindness. Surely he would be annoyed if she'd taken his civility as an invitation to befriend him.

"Arrogant, maybe- but I'm not a ferret. So is it a yes or a no?"

"Maybe I have plans."

"You're a terrible liar, did you know that Granger? Of course, there has to be _something _you don't accel at. Alright, who do you have plans with? The Weasel?"

"... You're right. I don't have plans."

"... Fine. It couldn't hurt. I'll take you up on your offer."

So, of course she had been surprised the first time he had asked her out for drinks. It hadn't been the last time, and she would still be surprised every time he waltzed into her office with some invitation or another. If she had been told earlier that year that Draco Malfoy- the biggoted ferret himself- or former biggoted ferret- would be the person to lead her back into the world, she would have fallen to the floor laughing- but that didn't change the fact that he _was _helping her to live her life again- even if that wasn't his intention. She was constantly shocked by how much they had to talk about- very little of it having to do with "Harry bloody Potter", "The Weasel", or any of the topics that would usually come up with anyone else.

"How did your case go?"

"Finally got that rat bastard into Azkaban. Damned defense was a joke, but they still managed to stretch the trial as long as they could."

"So you're free tonight?"

"..."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, but did _you _just make the invitation? Trying to steal my job, Granger?"

"Asking me out is your job?"

"Yes, and I'm bloody good at it, considering my record of successes. I honestly don't think you can handle the job."

"Then I suppose this quidditch ticket will have to go to someone else."

"You got those at the last minute?! How did you-"

"Are you coming or not?"

She could just imagine the reactions of her friends as she walked down the street with Draco Malfoy, the chilling winds making them walk closer and closer together. She could imagine the reactions of _anyone_ who would recognize her as a member of the Golden Trio, to the arm that had found it's way across her back and the hand that now rested on her shoulder. The frenzy that might occur if this relationship continued down the path it was on. But who would recall her? Who would see her and exclaim, "That's Harry Potter's good friend, Hermione Granger- and she's getting awfully chummy with that pure blood, death eater boy!"

They weren't at Hogwarts anymore, and the names Gryffindor and Slytherin had little to do with them now. The world had forgotten the Golden Trio- and had never really cared much about Draco. So who was there to recognize her? To care who she walked down the street with on this winter evening? Who remembered Hermione Granger enough to notice that her daily routine now included her former rival?

No one- and Hermione was alright with that, now. She would never be remembered as Harry would, and she would someday fade entirely from the stories of the boy who lived. However, there was someone in the world who not only remembered the Hermione Granger from her Hogwarts days, but knew the Hermione Granger that she was now- while for most it was either, or. Someone existed who didn't give a damn about her friendship with Harry Potter, who didn't comment on the pictures on her desk, and knew that she, too, had been a hero. Someone who could help her discover the new her, without leaving the old one entirely behind.

And perhaps she was helping him, too. His smile told her she was.

So, the world could forget Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy would not, and that was enough for her.

**A/N:** Hrm... I wasn't planning on ending with such an optimistic, romance-y note. The little dialogue bits got away from me. I was just planning on ending it with them going for that drink. Ah, well. I think it's okay, as far as Dramione goes- though I really don't want to label it a Dramione. The pairing is there- but this is really just supposed to be a focus on Hermione with some Dr/Hr. I don't think I could write a full-on Dramione romance, anyway- I'm not that confident in my writing skills!

I think this is the third fanfic where I've used my afore-mentioned "pronouns only" technique (Can it really be called a technique?) (the other two fics were "Had I known" and "Solang ich dich hab", which can both be found on my profile). Of course, in the other two absolutely no one was referred to by name- which I couldn't really do in this- also, I cheated and mentioned Hermione's name a couple of times... a few times... maybe five- maybe more- whatever! Shortly after I realized there was no way I could write the dialogue without him referring to her as "Granger" a couple of times, I knew the plan was out the window. (The other two fics had no dialogue... probably a factor.)

Anyway, please review if you enjoyed it, don't flame if you didn't, and critique either way. Also: Long, long reviews make me a happy writer, and happy writers write. So if you liked it (or wanna critique it), give me a paragraph or two!

IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE PAIRING, IT'S NOT MY PROBLEM. No, I did not list the pairing in the summary or the character selection. I'm sorry if that caused you to read this when you usually wouldn't, but it's really not my problem if you happen to hate Dramione. I'd really rather not hear about how much you dislike the pairing. That's not what reviews are for.


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